


stay with me

by walkthegale



Series: Writing Prompts for Days [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: “You can’t die. Please don’t die.”
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: Writing Prompts for Days [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719034
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt: https://walkthegale.tumblr.com/post/190965276646/5-or-6-beauyasha

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Yasha’s voice sounds far away, like it’s reaching Beau through a thick fog. Beau nods, or she thinks she does. She doesn’t seem to quite be in control of her body, not the way she usually is. Everything seems so soft around the edges, and her eyes don’t want to stay open and, somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought forms, slow and fuzzy, that she’s in pain. She thinks it’s a lot of pain, but she can’t quite feel it, not like she should.

She can feel Yasha’s hands on her, under her, and then the pain blazes into the foreground, bringing some semblance of clarity with it. Enough that she’s aware that Yasha has picked her up - is holding her in her arms. Enough to recognise that she’s been hurt. That her hands are sticky with blood and that it’s her own this time, not someone else’s.

 _Fuck_ , she wants to say, but the word dies on her lips in a wave of nausea. She’s cold. She’s cold and she can’t even tell what hurts and what doesn’t.

“...don’t have any magic left, but…”

Beau realises that Yasha is probably talking to her, and she tries to listen but her vision is blurring and Yasha’s voice keeps fading in and out. Something about Jester. Something about Cad. That makes sense. They’ll fix her up. She just has to get to them.

Yasha’s moving now and Beau can tell she’s trying to be careful but it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. When the world goes dark, Beau can’t tell if she’s closed her eyes or if they’ve just stopped working. It’s too hard. It’s too much. The pain drifts further away but she knows it isn’t getting any better.

“You can’t die,” is the last thing Beau remembers Yasha saying, but maybe she just dreamed it. Maybe she’s dreaming all of this - dreaming this whole life that’s so much better than anything that could possibly be real. “Please don’t die.”

There’s nothing after that.

Just the dark.

When Beau next opens her eyes, she’s lying in a room she recognises as her own, and there’s pain. It takes a moment for her to remember that it’s less pain than there was before, and to notice the familiar sensation of wounds half healed by magic. Her head throbs to the beat of her heart, but otherwise feels almost clear. Her mouth tastes like a moorbounder’s ass.

She sits up and _fuck, that hurts_ , but she can sit up, which is good. She’ll have to take stock of how many parts of herself are covered in bandages - she’s pretty sure she remembers at least one gash that’s going to leave a sweet scar - but for now she needs water.

She hasn’t even opened her mouth to ask when Yasha hands her a mug. Yasha. Yasha’s here. Yasha… carried her to safety. _Huh_.

Beau takes a long drink of what might be the best water she’s ever tasted, before she looks up.

Yasha looks back at her, her gaze steady. There are marks on her face that look sort of like tear tracks. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at Beau like she doesn’t know how to look away.

“Uh,” Beau says, eventually, her voice catching in her throat. “So. Yeah.” She takes a breath, and then another. “I didn’t die?”

The corners of Yasha’s mouth turn up, and the faintest flush rises in her cheeks. “Yeah,” she says, deadpan. “Good work. Well done.”

Beau almost laughs, which she’s pretty sure would have been a painful experience, and the tension in the room fades, like a spell has broken.

“I will call Jester.” Yasha turns away. “She’ll want to know that you are awake.”

“Sure.” Beau watches her open the door and go to step outside. “Hey, uh, Yasha?”

Yasha pauses, looks over her shoulder, her expression annoyingly unreadable. “Yes?”

Beau can feel herself blushing. “Thanks,” she says, before she can think better of it.

Yasha nods. From anyone else it would seem curt, uncomfortable, but Yasha’s eyes are warm. 

_Don’t go_ , says the needy, treacherous voice in the back of Beau’s head. The one she hates, that she usually has tamped down so hard she barely knows it’s there, but shit, she must have taken a hell of a beating for it to take her off guard like this. _Stay here. I don’t want to be alone. I want_ you _here, Yasha. You. I want you._

Yasha watches her for a moment longer, hesitating just long enough for Beau to be afraid that Yasha could somehow hear her inner monologue. That maybe she spoke out loud and didn’t know it. Yasha’s eyes are weirdly intense still, sort of… searching, in a way Beau can’t fathom.

But then Yasha turns back to the door. “Rest, Beau,” she says quietly, and then she’s gone.

 _Stay with me_ , Beau thinks, alone in her room with her aching, exhausted body. Oh. Fuck.

She lies down again, more gingerly than she would have let herself if anyone had been watching, and she’s asleep before Yasha gets back.


End file.
